


Pajamas

by mayorpunk



Series: Inquisitor Cyrus [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Skyhold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:16:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4000462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayorpunk/pseuds/mayorpunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Lavellan tries on his new outfit and Dorian is there to witness it and be as helpful as he usually is. </p><p>A fluffy one shot poking fun at the so-called "Skyhold Pajamas", the default outfit in Inquisition at Skyhold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pajamas

            “Come on Lavellan, let me see it!” Dorian said to the shut door in front of him.

            “I’m not sure about this.” The Inquisitor said. He was standing in a small, currently unused closet in one of the many corners of Skyhold. The rebuilding and mending efforts were underway, tradesmen and craftsmen running around the keep like a kicked anthill. The tailors in particular were high in need—many of the people who escaped Haven had escaped with only the clothes they had and any that they could grab. Even their glorious Inquisitor was lacking in the wardrobe department. Even a proven fighter couldn’t wear armor all day, especially in a place that was supposed to provide sanctuary and an escape from the constant warfare against Corypheus’s forces.

            “It can’t be that bad,” Dorian teased. “Besides, blood stained leather is very last season. In fact, I hear in Orlais that the newest trend is outfits that are washed _regularly_. It’s all the rage.”

            Lavellan laughed sardonically. “Very funny, Dorian. It’s hardly my fault that there are so many rifts and Templars about. And really, shouldn’t I be the one who’s the most upset about the blood in my clothes? Since it’s most likely mine?”

            “Most likely? Are you in doubt?” Dorian said back.

            “Well, that last batch of demon were rather juicy. I think some of these stains must be theirs. Surely my blood doesn’t smell _that_ bad.” Lavellan responded with a hesitant sniff.

            “Oh, your spilled blood smells finer than the Empress’s garden. I’m truly privileged to smell such a bouquet, your worship.” Dorian bowed at the closed door.

             “Bite me.” Lavellan said.

             “If my Lord Inquisitor commands it!” Dorian said with a flourish. “Now open the damn door, let me see!” He heard a sigh from the closet.

             “Alright. But I still think the tailor’s might be a little overworked and not putting out their best product.” The Inquisitor said as he unlocked the closet. He opened the door and let Dorian take him in. He was wearing pants and a shirt of a modest, dull grey. Both pieces were the same modest, dull grey. The shirt buttoned up the center with two rows of oddly shiny silver buttons. The pants were adorned with some odd kind of shiny metal or gem placed in seemingly random places. It was made with fine fabric but the overall effect was one of a drab, washed out elf that half blended-in with the walls.

             The Inquisitor let out a sigh. Dorian was doubled over, one hand seeking support on the wall and the other clasped over his mouth to try to stop any laughter from leaking out. He was not succeeding and trembling with the effort.

             “Dorian, come on.” Lavellan pleaded. Dorian’s eyes began to water as he took a big, shuddering breath and stood up. He cleared his throat and could not stop a small, high pitch snicker from escaping. Lavellan gave him as haughty of a glare as he could, which combined with his outfit, sent Dorian into another fit of laughter he could not stop. Lavellan reached out to lightly push Dorian.

             “It’s not that bad.” He said. Dorian took a breath and said, “Yes, you’re quite right. It’s not as atrocious as it seems. In fact, I’m sure it will grow on you.” The corner of his mouth trembled with contained mirth, betraying his lovely lie. Lavellan sighed again and turned toward the reflective piece of glass acting as his mirror.

             “I can’t ask them to redo the whole thing, not with how much necessary work they still have to do.” Lavellan said to the mirror and the still snickering Dorian in the mirror’s reflection. “Well,” Dorian began, stepping forward to stand a scant few inches behind the Inquisitor. “You could always just wander Skyhold in the nude. I’m sure it would be very becoming.” He purred into the Inquisitor’s ear, letting his hands rest on Lavellan’s hips. Lavellan felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end and his heart rate jump. He scoffed and looked away from Dorian’s gaze in the mirror. “Dorian, be serious.”

             “Please, I am _always_ serious, especially in the matters of dress.” Dorian turned Lavellan around. “Come on, let’s just _see_ if the pants look fine without the shirt.” His deft hands went to the Inquisitor’s shirt buttons.

             “Dorian!” Lavellan laughed, hands reaching up to grab his and try to stop Dorian’s onslaught on the buttons. Lavellan would never admit it, but he wasn’t trying very hard. Dorian and Lavellan laughed and let the momentum of their tussling lead them back further into the closet. His shirt was off one shoulder and most of the buttons undone, their laughter paused. Their bodies were separated by only a few breaths of air. Dorian leaned in slowly as the Inquisitor’s eyes fluttered shut.

             “Hey boss!” Came a raucous call from the hallway. “Have you seen,” Iron Bull’s sentence halted as he rounded the corner and saw the Inquisitor and Dorian in the closet. He immediately burst into uproarious laugher that bounced and echoed of the bricks of the hallway. Dorian and Lavellan stepped away, sending each other a confused glance as they weren’t entirely sure what Bull was laughing about. Lavellan shifted on his feet and hastily straightened and buttoned up his shirt while trying to act like he wasn’t blushing from collarbones to crown.

             “I can’t... believe... you have to wear that!” Bull choked out between bursts of laughter. “It’s... hideous!” He finished, finally succumbing to the force of his laughter and seeking support in the wall behind him.

             “Very funny, Bull.” Lavellan said. Bull took a deep breath. “Well, at least _someone_ likes it. I didn’t expect you to be in to that kind of thing, Vint. I had you pegged as more of a leather man.” He waggled his eyebrows at Dorian.

             “Yes, well--”

             “I don’t know what--” Dorian and Lavellan started at the same time. With much stuttering and blushing on the part of Dorian and the Inquisitor respectively, they walked out of the closet.

             “Is there something I can help you with, Bull?” Lavellan asked him, looking at a spot slightly above Bull’s head.

             “Another rough patch has been found, absolutely swarming with Red Templars. Cullen wants us to head out as soon as we’re ready.” Bull said, still smiling.

             “Well, then we should get going then.” The Inquisitor turned to Dorian, faintly blushing. “Dorian, would you like to join us on this mission?”

             “Anything to get you out of that truly tragic outfit.” Dorian said, already striding down the hallway.

             “It’s not that bad.” Lavellan said to himself, hurrying down the hall after him. Bull chuckled quietly to himself and followed them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm one of those people who thinks the default Skyhold outfit is so hideous, haha. Hmu on tumblr at steventhealmighty!


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